


Lovers in Arms

by hazeleyedwriter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Grief, M/M, Mourning, Oral History, Referenced Torture, Semi-Canon Compliant, a hint of survivors guilt, an exploration into the howling commandos, but this is more of a continuing their legacy kinda fic, homophobia does not exist in this timeline, sledding with the shield, the Howling Commandos, the first avenger, they both go down in the valkyrie, writing this brought tears to my eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazeleyedwriter/pseuds/hazeleyedwriter
Summary: In the history section of the Brooklyn public library you will find two books. The first book is called An Artist At War and contains sketches and drawings by Steven Grant Rogers, Captain of the Howling Commandos during WWII. If you were to flip to page 42 of Captain Rogers’ book, you’d find a sketch of a man with bright eyes, short hair under a crooked Army-issued cap, and a crooked grin to match. This is one of the only surviving pictures of James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, Captain Rogers’ second in command. If you look even closer on the shelf, you will find the second book— it is thinner than the book of art, and it chronicles the relationship between Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Through those who knew them during the War, “Lovers in Arms” details how two heroes managed to find salvation during one of the most trying periods in American history.
Relationships: steve rogers / bucky barnes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	Lovers in Arms

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a labor of love, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Dernier, Jacques., et al. _Lovers In Arms_. New York: Astoria Publishing House, 1951.

This book is dedicated to Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes: may we never forget the times we had together, and may you both find each other in the afterlife.

**Chapter 1: Basic Training and Project Rebirth**

**_Timothy “Dum Dum” Dugan (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)_ **

I met Bucky when we were both at basic training in Georgia in ‘42. I didn’t think much of him at first. Other than the guy with a Brooklyn accent had some swagger and he could definitely steal my girl if he wanted to. Hell, he could’ve stolen me from Marcy if he had wanted. Okay, maybe I thought something. But that’s not the point. The point is I’m the one Howling Commando who’s— sorry, who’d known him the longest, besides Cap. They’d known each other since they were both in school, a long time before the war and even before the Depression. You could tell they’d been through literally everything together. People like that, I can’t imagine one of them dying and the other having to live on. So in a way I’m glad they went together. I’m getting ahead of myself, though, so back to Basic. Bucky and I were in the same class at Benning. Bucky had a lot of friends— he was really popular even with the COs. He was pretty, he had better manners than the rest of us, he wrote to his mom weekly, and he was in great shape. He’d show us pictures of Cap too, before he was our Captain. Steve was this skinny punk, and Bucky had this one picture of him fresh out of a fight. Even though he went through that experiment and got huge, he still always had that same scowl that he does in that picture. Sarge used to say that Cap had fought half of Brooklyn by the time he joined the army, and could’ve fought the other half if Hitler hadn’t had other plans. Anyway, I told Bucky about Marcy and he told me about Steve. He was pissed when Steve showed up in Italy; he didn’t want his best guy in the war. But I think he came around eventually. I could tell he missed Steve before he saved us, and morale really went up when Cap stayed in Europe, forming the team.

_**Margaret “Peggy” Carter (Special Agent, served 1939 - present)** _

I was Captain Rogers’ handler during Project Rebirth; my job was to get him to and from appointments and make sure nothing happened to him that would impair the experiment. I didn’t treat him like a person. I don’t think any of us on the project did, except Dr. Erskine, God rest his soul. Steve was a specimen. The test subject that might die in the process of the experiment. I knew this going in and therefore did not want to get attached. We had a working relationship, but rarely did we talk about our home lives or what we did after hours. I did come to know, though, that Steve always kept a paperback in his jacket pocket. He’d get it out when we had days that were more “hurry up and wait” than anything else really. The day he went into the machine the book was “The Wizard of Oz.” He told me that he and his partner, Sergeant Barnes, had seen the adaptation at the cinema. That was one of the very few personal things he shared with me before we both ended up in Europe.

I think, it was almost expected for Steve and I to have a fling while I was his handler. At least Howard would always make the innuendo that we were “fondue-ing,” his words. Steve was a very private man, so the public did not know about him and Sergeant Barnes. I think everyone figured that since we spent so much time together there had to be something going on, but there was not. I would like the record to show that we never did. We were both faithful to our respective partners. There were rumors a plenty about the USO women and Steve as well.Those were not true, either; Steven was friends with them all but nothing more. And the rumors stopped once he actually matriculated into the Army.

_**Chester Phillips (Commanding Officer, US Army, served 1917 - 1947)** _

I’d known Captain Rogers about as long as Agent Carter had. I wasn’t… impressed, the first time I met him. He was skinny and not what I was looking for for Project Rebirth. I remember telling Erskine to get him a sandwich— he was just so small, I didn’t know how he’d survive the change. But he proved himself time and time again, and not just at boot-camp. Though, boot-camp was the first place I saw him prove himself. There was one day where all the recruits— really the potential subjects of Rebirth— were training together, and Agent Carter and I decided to give them a little pop quiz. I took a dummy grenade, unpinned it, and threw it out into the group. They scattered like jacks. But Steven— Captain Rogers— he took one look at the grenade and threw himself on top of it. He didn’t even hesitate. I’m not sure there was a thought in his head that would’ve told him to run, to protect himself and let the grenade explode. I would like to be able to say that I suddenly knew what Erskine saw in him right after that. But I was still skeptical. Even after the serum he pulled stunts like that. Selfless, thoughtless stunts. I think he’d probably still be with us if he had put his safety above others’. But I’ll always be grateful for him. His selflessness saved so many lives. As for Sergeant Barnes, I was not as familiar with him as I was Captain Rogers. But I knew his name.

**Chapter 2: Europe**

_**Chester Phillips (Commanding Officer, US Army, served 1917 - 1947)** _

I knew Sergeant Barnes was important to Captain Rogers. That was especially apparent when Rogers told me he would walk to Austria if that was what it would take to make sure his partner was dead or alive. Just another time Rogers proved himself to be worthy. I worried sometimes if their partnership might lead Rogers, or Barnes, to act rashly. But I think Rogers was rash in general: if he saw a situation headed south, he couldn’t ignore it. That was just the way he was. He was a pain in my ass too, that’s for sure. I nearly sent a relief party after him, Carter, and Stark when they snuck off for Austria. But I couldn’t risk anymore men and had to stick by what I had told Rogers in the first place. He came back, though, that son of a bitch. Talking about how he couldn’t call back to Base because his radio had gotten destroyed. I would’ve thought he was full of shit if he hadn’t taken it out of his pocket and showed me what remained. It wasn’t much.

He got a commendation medal that I certainly didn’t put him up for. But he deserved it anyway.

_**James “Jim” Morita (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)** _

In December of ‘43, right after Cap had gotten us out of the HYDRA facility, I saw my first snow in Austria. Being from Fresno, California, I had spent my first 23 winters with the weather only dropping to maybe 32*f at night. But that winter in ‘43 was something else. At night it was unfathomably cold. I live in the Midwest now, but every winter I catch myself thinking, “At least we’re not in Austria,” and it puts things into perspective. It also helps that I have a house with a heater, and not just a trench with Jack and Monty to keep me warm. But anyway. This isn’t about me. Honestly, without Cap and Sarge I probably wouldn’t be here today to tell their story. I saw my first snow in Austria in 1943— we had some down time for Christmas. Even in war the brass found a way for us to celebrate the big holidays. I was in captivity for Thanksgiving, but I heard from other guys that they had hot turkey and fix-ins airdropped to them.

We Howlies got Christmas Eve and Day off from the mission we were in the middle of, so it was just us in the middle of nowhere. They couldn’t airdrop us a feast— they couldn’t give away our location like that, but we each had an extra ration just for the occasion. Military rations aren’t great, but getting to eat two instead of one is still a treat. We had gotten bored sitting around our fire drinking hot coffee— I could wax poetic about that cheap shit— when someone had the bright idea to use Cap’s shield as a sled. There was a big hill right at our campsite, and it hadn’t stopped snowing for days. I’ll never forget it. Everything was so white and clean and quiet, you could hear a pin drop, or Dugan’s laugh, for miles and miles. It didn’t take any convincing, and next thing we know Steve is hurtling down the hill at full speed. He was such a big man, but somehow he managed to fold his body so all of him fit on the shield.

Now, it took a few turns for something to go haywire. I had a turn, Sarge had a turn, even Gabe took a turn on the shield. Cap’s cheeks were real red from the cold and the wind, I remember specifically. Mainly because Sarge couldn’t help himself from reaching up on his tiptoes to kiss Cap on each cheek, making them even redder from blushing.They weren’t really big on PDA, but it was sweet when it did happen. They shared a trench, and when we hadn’t dug holes in the ground and had to risk sleeping on the surface, they still burrowed in close to each other.

Now, like I said, it took a few turns for one of us to fall off the shield. And boy, did it cause a ruckus when Cap finally did. He fell off his own shield. I wonder what Stark would’ve thought of that scene. He probably would’ve laughed as hard as Bucky did, and then written down adjustments in order to get the shield to be dual-use.

So Cap is going even faster than he had the first time down the hill— Monty had given him a right push. Dugan— don’t know how his thick brain managed to calculate it first, but he did— started yelling, “Tree, Cap!! Tree!” and then all of us looked to our right. Sure enough there was a tree in the line of fire, and Steve was hurtling toward it faster than I’d ever seen someone go down a hill. Sarge started yelling, “Pull to the left! Pull to the left!” and Cap leaned, but not before he slammed into the tree and nearly cut it in half. Splinters and bark went everywhere. I thought Sarge might pass out from laughing so hard.

You’d think that if someone’s partner had just run full speed into a tree causing a lumber-jack effect they’d be running and trying to make sure their partner was okay. But not Sarge. He laughed so hard he himself fell over into the snow. And Cap was fine, of course. Who knows what that serum was made out of but the tree was more damaged than he was. He stood up like a champion, out of breath, arms raised in triumph. It took Sarge a full five minutes to calm down and be able to ask him if he was okay. Once he did, though, and also once Cap tackled him back down into the snow, we had a snowball fight that lasted until even he was out of breath from laughing and running around.

If Cap had survived the war, and if he had wanted to get out of the service, he could’ve gone pro with the Dodgers. He had quite the pitch. They never really talked about life after the war, though. I mean, they did mention their shared home in Brooklyn. And about Bucky’s sister who had moved to Indiana after she got married right before Sarge shipped out. But they never really mentioned what they’d do once we won the war. There was a mention of adopting kids, but that had seemed more of like a “if the war hadn’t happened” kind of thing. They were so focused on fighting and spending the time they could together, because we all sort of knew that going home wasn’t guaranteed. Maybe if they had gotten to go home they still would’ve adopted a kid or two. Had a little family in a brownstone in Brooklyn with a garden outback. I know they both liked flowers; they would always comment on the arrangements in the windows of shops that we passed in small towns in Europe. I remember, when spring came around in ‘44, and right before they went down in the Valkyrie, Cap was so excited to see the first flowers poking out from under the last bit of snow. He picked one for Sarge who wore it behind his ear until we got attacked from the left flank and had to take cover and prepare to retaliate. It fell off him sometime during the fight. Later, though, Cap picked him another one, this one was purple, and Sarge put it in his breast pocket like a boutonniere.

_**Margaret “Peggy” Carter (Special Agent, served 1939 - present)** _

Even in Europe Steve had a paperback book with him at all times. Once, that same copy of “The Wizard of Oz” saved his life. The Howling Commandos and I were infiltrating a HYDRA base, but apparently they had been prepared for us. Someone had tipped them off. We came under heavy fire, but Steve had run back into the compound to find Barnes and Morita. They had gotten in first, before the firefight, and how they did it I will never know because the compound was so heavily fortified. Steve had told the rest of us to turn around and get ourselves to safety while he went in to get his guys out. I had just turned around to see if he really was going back in, and that’s when I saw him go down from a sniper some hundred yards away. I tried to get to him. But then even more snipers began firing and if we wanted to have any of us survive, we had to leave Steve on the ground and Barnes and Morita inside. I don’t know what happened to them next, but eventually the three of them met us back at Base, and Steve’s paperback had a bullet hole in it and the bruise on his chest had already healed, thanks to the serum.

The cameras did not catch that fight, thankfully. I do not think seeing Captain America go down would have done anything positive to Allied morale. The video footage captured the way Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes looked at each other very well, though. Even Colonel Phillips, as stoic as he was, could not help but smile softly the first time we saw the picture of Sergeant Barnes that was in Steve’s compass. It was a drawing, actually. Steve must have cut the paper and done the drawing with the intention of putting it somewhere he would see often, even though he was constantly in the field with Sergeant Barnes. There is a meaning to the gesture.

_**Gabriel “Gabe” Jones (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)** _

There were various rumors that went around troops as to why we were called The Howling Commandos, but they’re all wrong. There wasn’t a rhyme or reason as to why or how we got the name. Someone proposed it and it stuck. Honestly, the name could’ve definitely come from us being loud and getting kicked out of bars. It wasn’t, but it could’ve been. One time we were in Eindhoven, and this was all after we had liberated the town and one of its neighbors, so the villagers were happy to see us, but it was a couple days after their celebrations had died down and we finally got a chance to go out and celebrate ourselves. We’d had a taste of the local delicacies, if you know what I mean. Well, everybody but Cap and Sarge got a taste. They were doing their own thing before we all met up at this tiny bar.

Fast forward a few rounds, and man, is Dutch liquor strong. We were all super drunk. Cap would tell you that the serum made it so that he wasn’t affected by alcohol, but that was an outright lie. He was shitfaced. And when Cap got shitfaced he couldn’t keep his hands off Sarge. He had to be at least shoulder to shoulder with the man. But that’s not the point of this story. Well, they are the whole point of this book, but they weren’t the reason we got kicked out. Okay, well, maybe, just a smidge, Cap was the reason we got kicked out. But it wasn’t because of the public displays of affection.

There was this guy— not in our squad, but he spoke English with an American accent— he was chatting up one of the waitresses. And she didn’t look too happy about it. So Cap being Cap, of course, he stepped in. And he would’ve done this sober, too. But he walks over to the guy, taps him on the shoulder, and when the guy turned around Cap got him straight in the jaw. All of the Howlies and a few other patrons couldn’t help but cheer.

So the guy is massaging his jaw, right, and he finally gets a chance to really look at the person who’s slugged him. You could see the moment it dawned on him that he’d just been punched in the face by none other than Captain America. And you’d think that would stop a normal person. But this guy. This guy squared up. He landed a good uppercut to Cap’s gut and wound up for another one before Sarge tackled him. They later said that that is exactly what they were like back in Brooklyn before the war. What was different though was the fact that this time in Holland the drunk bastard had friends. So it ended up being squad vs squad: Sarge ended up getting distracted from the first guy because this mountain of a man stood up from his place at the bar and towered over Bucky. He didn’t like to admit it, but the look of fear that flashed over his face when he realized the size of this guy was one for the books. That was one of the few times I ever saw Sarge look scared. If he was ever scared more than twice while we were in Europe, he was damn good at hiding it. So he’s up against this mountain of a man and Cap is still fighting with the original bastard.

I’m watching, I ain’t gonna get my hands dirty unless I had to. I was there to celebrate. Dugan and Monty seemed to have the same idea. But Morita and Jack? It was like they knew the gal. They took on who looked to be the squad’s Sergeant. He was still wearing his service jacket, so you could see the chevrons on his bicep. Cap got the original bastard down for the count, and then moved on to help Sarge. At that time the owner of the pub came out and yelled at all of us in Dutch, and I’m assuming he said something along the lines of, “get the hell outta here and don’t come back. Take all of your friends, too,” because Monty ended up grabbing me and pulling me out into the street.

_**Jacques Dernier (French Armed Forces 1940 - 1945)** _

We had been through a village a few days before Christmas. Just passing through, or so I thought. Turned out that Captain Rogers had snuck into a shop and gotten us Christmas gifts. Well, technically he didn’t buy us the gifts, but he bought some new charcoal and paper so that he could draw us all something personal.

For Timothy he drew his wife from back home, for Falsworth he drew the church he always talked about. Morita got the rolling hills of the California valley with his family’s house and farm. I got the front windows of my mother’s shop— stocked with all the cakes and croissants and other baked goods she was famous for before the war. Gabriel got a portrait of his family. And for Sergeant Barnes, he got a portrait of himself and Captain Rogers at Coney Island. It’s in black and white, but you can tell the sun is setting on the water. He had done all of these pieces from memory— no reference, as that would have given him away. It was uncanny, but so like Steven. Thoughtful in even the most unexpected, tiny ways. Not that hand drawn gifts at Christmas in the middle of a war is a small kindness. It’s still one of the biggest deals. But he always remembered that Falsworth preferred tea to coffee, and always saved what he could for him. And he knew that Gabe liked his coffee extra hot, so Steven would leave his cup on the fire for just a bit longer. And when it came to Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers knew and remembered everything.

_**James Montgomery “Monty” Falsworth (His Majesty the King’s Royal Army 1939 - 1946)** _

I like to think I knew Sergeant Barnes fairly well. We had not been in the same squad for very long— the only quality time we spent together was during the Howlies, but we got on. There was a time— the Howling Commandos were sent to an American base camp in England for jump training, before we went back to the continent for missions. Sergeant Barnes was afraid of heights. I remember this because he volunteered to be the very last one out of the glider, and when Captain Rogers made sure he didn’t want to be second, he gave him a look that said do not ask again. I wonder how he could go on so many roller coasters as a child. Alas, that environment is more controlled than jumping out of a plane with only a parachute that has the potential to fail.

His parachute never failed, but Steven’s did, once. It was during the landing into Normandy— everything had gone fine in training, we all earned our jump wings. Rogers always jumped first, of course. As the Captain of a squad would. I was second to last, Sergeant Barnes behind me as usual. I think it was Morita who was in front of me. I counted on my way down; it was a nervous habit I acquired early on in training. That night in France I only counted six of us in the air. There should have been seven open parachutes. When we all got to the designated drop zone— which was luck in and of itself because so many soldiers those first days could not even find their assigned squad after landing— Sergeant Barnes was as calm as he usually was after a jump, until someone mentioned that Captain Rogers had not reported. Then Bucky appeared even calmer. He took command seamlessly— you’ll have to remember that he was in charge of his own squadron before the Captain assembled us all together. He told us to split up and look for Rogers, the mission could wait. One trio went West and the other went East. It was Dernier, Jones and myself who found him. He told us that his parachute had not opened, so he hit a tree and then fell out of it. None of us could have survived that. In a way it was lucky that the only failed parachute we ever had failed Captain Rogers— the serum protected him from the fall being fatal.

We found the other three, eventually, and found out that Sergeant Barnes had been hit. It turned out to have been from friendly fire and boy, did that Private get a reprimand from Captain Rogers once we had secured the town and converged with the 101st.

_**Timothy “Dum Dum” Dugan (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)** _

We spent a lot of time together, us Commandos. You don’t leave a war without getting to know your men better than yourself. You get to know them too well, almost.

I knew Sarge longer than I knew Cap. We went from boot-camp bunk mates to willing to risk our lives for each other. And we did, time after time. I noticed something was wrong after Cap rescued us from that Hydra facility. Looking back it’s more obvious, but hindsight is 20/20, isn’t it? I think I noticed something was wrong and just chalked it up to the war. We were all pretty messed up by it. We did things that made us not sleep so well, but that was part of the compromise. Do some things you’re not too proud of, because in the grand scheme of things you’ll be saving millions of lives. At least, that’s what we told ourselves and what people tell us now. Anyway. Sarge was different after Italy.

We got separated when we got captured— I was put in a cell with Morita and the other guys, but Sarge— Sarge was taken somewhere by himself. After Cap rescued us I noticed that Bucky had bruises around his wrists, marks on his arms. A haunted look in his eyes that he tried to hide. He did a pretty good job of it too, but Steve in particular noticed. How do you hide something from someone who’s known you practically your entire life? They lived together, before the war. Cap must’ve known Sarge too well. I remember I heard them trying to whisper in their trench one night. It was real cold and silent so their voices carried. Cap wanted to know if Sarge really was okay, or if he needed to contact Base and have them send Sarge home. Sarge wasn’t having it. He wasn’t gonna leave Cap. He didn’t say that, but he also did, in a way.

It was like that night Cap asked us all to join his little squad of commandos. Sarge didn’t hesitate saying yes, except he made it clear he wasn’t following the government’s science project. He was following Steve Rogers, the guy who got Sarge’s nose broken when he was fourteen because he had to break up a fight Cap was in with some much bigger fellas. Steve Rogers, the guy who had kissed Sarge for the very first time when they were sixteen and seventeen at Coney Island. The guy who somehow always knew and did what was right no matter the cost to himself. He was always like that, I guess.

**Chapter 3: Their Death**

_**Margaret “Peggy” Carter (Special Agent, served 1939 - present)** _

I sometimes wonder if the serum could have helped him survive that crash. I’ll never know the answer until we find the plane and their bodies.

I was one of the ones on the end of the line when Steve radioed in and told us that there was no choice but to crash. Private Morita and I tried to come up with ways they could dismantle the explosives and land safely, but nothing worked. I know they tried. And I know that they would not have done it if there had been another option.

My job, as an agent, has made me rather good at compartmentalization. Sometimes, if you can control the situation, then your emotions are easier to keep in check. But that day I could not control anything. The day Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes died has turned into a national day of mourning. It seems as if everyone feels their loss, and knows that without them the world would not look the way it does. I do not know if they knew this, but the radio was still on as they said their last words to each other.

I also do not know if any kind of words could say what they might have needed to say to one another. I feel as if their last words between each other deserve to stay between them, so I will not repeat what I heard over the radio. It feels wrong to share that with the world. I will say this, though: their last known conversation together exhibited who they really were. More than just Captain and Sergeant; they were partners, they were lovers. Lovers in arms, fighting together until the very end.

_**Timothy “Dum Dum” Dugan (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)** _

Cap’s selflessness carried on over into the war. Sarge was selfless, too. The media always only ever focused on Cap, but there was no shadow for Bucky to hide in. He casted his own.

Their selflessness and sacrifice are the reasons they're dead and me and the other guys are sitting here relaying how we knew them, rather than reminiscing with Cap and Sarge over a pint.

It’s messed up, is what it is. I think Sarge knew that. I think that’s one of the reasons he stayed. He wasn’t going to let Steve go down without fighting right alongside him. They had this thing. When we were gearing up to storm a facility or a base. They would share a look, and Sarge would nod and say, “on your left.” They always knew what each other was thinking. It made them an incredible duo, and I was always glad to be behind them rather than on the receiving end. Lord knows the kinds of things they get up to in Heaven.

I miss them, I really do. I didn’t know either of them before the war but I had hoped that all of us Commandos would survive and keep in contact like some of the other squads do. Have reunions, be at each others’ weddings, get to know each others’ kids. The rest of us have done that but it’s just not the same without Cap and Sarge.

I have a little girl now, Jamie. Gabe and Morita were at her birth, Dernier and Monty came over a couple months later to meet her. She was born right after the war and all the guys always try to make it for her birthdays. I try to tell her stories about her other two uncles, the men who saved my life and made it so that I could come home and have her. It’s hard sometimes though. The grief and guilt can be overpowering.

_**Jacques Dernier (French Armed Forces, 1940 - 1945)** _

There are headstones for American soldiers in village cemeteries in France. They’re for those who died in the region; the French do not wish to forget the ultimate sacrifices our allies made for our liberation.

Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers both have a headstone where my mother lives. She saw to it, even though they did not die in that area. My mother makes sure there is always a bouquet of flowers between their stones. She makes sure they do not wilt either. I call her once a week and it always comes up: she always asks, “what are the American colors?” And I tell her they are the same as ours: red, white, and blue. I am living in Paris now but I make sure I visit on their birthdays. Sometimes there will have already been visitors because there will be a small American flag on each grave. I don’t know who does it because the whole village knows they are there. It’s lovely. I just wish it wasn’t so.

There has even been a petition— particularly in the northern region of the country— to make the fourth of July a French holiday as well. I think the sale of fireworks has increased here since 1945. It’s a funny thing, celebrating death and legacy. But sometimes it’s all we have.

_**James Montgomery “Monty” Falsworth (His Majesty the King’s Royal Army 1939 - 1946)** _

The Brits would never celebrate the fourth of July like the French want to but Captain Rogers has been honored with a Royal Post stamp. Although it is more memorializing of Captain America, not the man we all knew and grew to love.

That was always an interesting thing— knowing “both.” It wasn’t a front because Steven was always honest but Captain America was different than Captain Rogers. Our countries know the myth, the legendary soldier. We knew the man. The man who complemented Sergeant Barnes so well. The man who trusted us so much he disregarded Colonel Phillips’ attempts to put together his own squadron.

Bucky never got the international renown that he deserves— everyone knew him, of course. They know us too. But they don’t know anyone quite like they know Captain America or Steve Rogers. But I don’t think Sarge ever minded. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother the rest of us— Sarge did just as much for us as Steve did. He was our Sergeant before Steve was our Captain. He saved me and Jack, that’s how we first met, and why we were captured together. We carry his legacy just as much as we carry Cap’s. If we’re the only ones who make sure people remember him, then so be it. But I won’t die until it’s known that Sergeant Barnes was as integral to morale and our success in the field as anyone, if not more than the ones who didn’t go down.

The day after the Valkyrie crashed the remaining Commandos went to a pub— and toasted the men who gave their lives so the war could end so much sooner. There are sometimes too many words that need to be said but no way to say them and that was one of those times. The Howling Commandos were never quiet in a pub. But that day we were.

_**Gabriel “Gabe” Jones (US Army, served 1942 - 1945)** _

I’ve said it before, but I always hated the name Howling Commandos. I thought it was dumb. But after Cap and Sarge died, I realized it wasn’t so bad. I don’t mind it so much now since it’s kinda like living on in their memory. No one else will ever be The Howling Commandos. That was us.

That patch on our left shoulders— the little wing— that’s a symbol that will only ever mean one thing. It’s something to be proud of now. I embroidered it onto my leather jacket after the war and when I no longer had to wear my uniform all the time. I wanted to keep them with me.

Sometimes we forget events that were traumatic, and I think that’s usually a good thing. But other times, those events are burned into your memory and it takes years for it to not be one of the only things you think about. The day the Valkyrie crashed is one of those kinds of memories. I can remember the rhythm of the beep of the radio, I can still hear Bucky telling Steve that there was no way to override the autopilot. That meant that they would have to stay in the plane and push it down, they couldn’t jump out and hope we’d find them and hope that the plane would crash itself. I can still feel Phillips’ hand on my shoulder, telling me to get out of the room. I don’t know why he did that. Maybe it was to spare me. But I can still remember watching through the window and seeing the exact moment Morita’s shoulders slacked and he hung his head. The way Agent Carter put her hand over her mouth. She was almost as stoic as Phillips, but that day they both lost a bit of their steam.

In battle, time does not stop moving, even if you’ve just seen your buddy go down. You have to keep pushing forward. One foot after the other. You have to reload, refire, there’s no time to take a breath and drag your buddy’s body to safety. You have to collect the bodies after the fight. You have to process so many things all at once and it sometimes doesn’t hit you that they’re gone until you have to take their tag off their body. With Cap and Sarge, there were no bodies. There was no taking a tag off and leaving the other with the body. Time stopped when the radio went silent. Breathing was hard. I think we all took turns processing and then we all cried when we went to the pub the next day.

_**James “Jim” Morita (US Army, served 1941 - 1945)** _

Phillips made everyone but me leave the room when Agent Carter took over communication between Base and Cap and Sarge. I don’t know why he didn’t make me leave because I wasn’t doing anything anymore, I was just sitting and listening. Maybe I should’ve left the room with Gabe. Since I was one of three people in the room when the radio went silent, I heard their last conversation. I don’t know why they didn’t turn off the radio to have the conversation. Maybe it didn’t matter to them who heard. Maybe turning the radio off felt too final. I’ll never know. But I hear that conversation, in their voices, echoing in my head nearly every day. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.

Agent Carter and I agreed that we would never tell anyone what we heard exactly. Phillips just didn’t say anything, period. He stayed standing, listening, and when everything went quiet he bowed his head for a moment and then left the room.

The air was heavy for a really long time. Peggy and I didn’t really know what to do. We were barely breathing because I remember the exact moment I realized I had been holding my breath. Would I love to think that the serum made it so that Steve survived? Almost. But it feels wrong for one of them to be alive without the other. As unfair as it is for us and their family, I think it is a greater mercy that they died together.

_**Rebecca “Becca” Barnes-Proctor (sister)** _

Our parents were Bucky’s next of kin, and I was Steve’s. I was only 23 and we’re not blood-related but with the circumstances of the experiment, and the fact that Steve had no living relatives, they allowed it. I’ll never forget receiving that letter in the mail. I’d moved back to Shelbyville with my husband so I wasn’t around when my parents got the letter about Bucky, but I imagine they had similar reactions. I hadn’t seen him in over a year— he shipped out the day after my wedding. I had always wanted my wedding to be in October; fall in New York is just such a lovely time of year. But Bucky got his orders to report to the dock in April and it was more important to me to have him there than to have my newlywed pictures taken in an apple orchard. Steve was there too, of course. They were both bridesmen. I’m not sure that’s really a thing, to be honest! But I couldn’t have three men walk me down the aisle. I did have a dance with each of them though. Father-daughter dance first, then Bucky, and then Steve, who had been practicing. I never saw him in person after the experiment, but I did see pictures. The posters for his USO tours were collectors’ items.

I sometimes wonder about how he grew into that body, so to speak. He was about my height at my wedding and the dance lessons from Bucky really paid off. He didn’t step on anyone’s feet the entire night. But then again, the only people he danced with were me and Bucky, so we wouldn’t have minded anyway. I think their deaths have really solidified that night in my memory. I don’t know how it all works but some memories are just clearer now. I guess now I don’t have them to rely on for reminiscing, and it’s all up to me to remember the times like the evening I went on my first date with the man who is now my husband.

I was nineteen, and he came to pick me up from my parents’ house. Steve and Bucky had insisted they be there too so they could “get to know him” before we left. I think Stevie scared him more than my own brother did. My husband was one of the very few souls in Brooklyn Steve Rogers never fought.

Getting that letter.... I don’t think there is anything quite like the feeling that comes with reading that a loved one has been killed in action. Supposedly killed in action, I should say. They never did find their bodies. A part of me still hopes, I think. That someday there will be a knock on my door and behind it will be my big brothers.

I visit their graves whenever I’m back in Brooklyn. Our parents got them plots next to each other, and we held a joint funeral even if there was nothing to bury but two empty caskets. The flag covering Steve’s was folded and presented to me. It still sits over my fireplace next to a picture of the three of us. It was taken the day Bucky shipped out. He’s in his full dress uniform, an arm around each of us. He’s smiling. So am I, so is Steve. I couldn’t bear putting up the picture of just Stevie in his own uniform. I’m sure the Howlies have pictures of the two of them, but I prefer the one I have.

_**Epilogue** _

Maybe you already knew the story of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. Maybe you’re using this book for research. Maybe you just wanted to read about two men in love who were thrust into impossible scenarios and did the best they could to make sure no one else would ever have to make the decisions that they did. When all was said and done, we got to go home to our families and have children, and continue on with our lives. Steve and Bucky will never be able to do that; their bodies have not even been found yet.

The only solace we can take from this is that they lived and died together. They went from childhood best friends to clumsy teenage lovers, to lovers in arms during the most intense war our world has seen so far. It is our duty, as their survivors, to make sure they did not die in vain, and that their legacy continues on to inspire others into public service. One of the most important lessons Steve and Bucky taught us in the fields and forests and towns of Europe was that there is always love. Sometimes it just takes a little more effort to find, but it’s there, and that is one promise that no one can break. In the cold cold trenches of that winter in ‘43, in a warm pub in a freshly-liberated city, in the midst of battle, there will always be at least one person who has your back no matter what. Find that person. Fight for them, too, until fighting is no longer necessary. In our case, we had a whole squad. In Steve’s case on the playground, he had Bucky. When Bucky was strapped to the table in the HYDRA warehouse, he had Steve. This is not to say that it will be easy. This book should be proof that it is not always. But if you have that person, like Steve had Bucky and Bucky had Steve, then you might just find peace. We can only hope that they did.


End file.
